by Devon Monk
“I don’t—.” I swallowed and clenched my teeth around a smile. “I don’t make deals to avoid my feelings. Try that on some other rube. You want more than a kiss. Which is manipulative and against the rules of our agreement. Therefore, I don’t think the kiss is required after all. I think you made that up.”
“All right. I see your line of reasoning.” He shut the door and took the two steps. He was directly in front of me. “Let’s not let a simple vortex to Hell—that will probably reopen since it hasn’t been properly closed—get between us, Myra. We have too beautiful of a thing going here.”
“We have nothing going here.” That’s what I said. And I meant it. But my heart? Oh, my heart had other ideas.
My heart liked that he pushed me, teased me, made me follow rules, or make up rules for everything between us. My heart liked how stubborn he was, liked that he wasn’t cruel, and hadn’t actually ever stepped over any of my personal boundaries.
If he were a man instead of a demon, he’d be just the type I’d date. Maybe even the type I could keep in my life for a long, long time.
I took a deep, slow breath, trying to clear my head with the cool, damp air, but instead got the warmth of his cologne spiced with the green of the park.
“We have nothing going here,” he repeated. “So let’s seal that vortex with a kiss. Nothing to it.”
“No marking my soul.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” He extended one hand, caught my wrist lightly between his fingers, and squeezed gently. His long fingers were warm, calloused, and could completely wrap around my wrist. Then he transferred his hold, sliding his fingers sweetly down my palm and weaving them with mine.
Only one hand. He left the other free. He didn’t step any closer to me. Just waited.
My heart was pounding, pounding, pounding. From just that touch. From just one hand.
This kiss was going to happen.
Nothing to it.
“No marking my…anything.” It sounded lame, breathy, but it was hard to think beneath the full force of his attention, hard to do anything but give in to my need to fall into him and keep him.
No.
No. There would be no keeping a demon. Certainly not the demon who stole my sister’s soul and wouldn’t give it back.
“Give my sister back her soul,” I said quietly as I stepped just that much closer to him and tipped up my chin.
“Ah, Myra. I can’t. Not now.” His other hand lifted, cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing below my lip.
“Why not?” I lifted on my toes, just a little. Because I liked the idea of him reaching down for me, bending for me.
“There are too many consequences.”
“Which consequences?”
“I’d tell you, but it would cost more than a kiss.”
And just like that, the mood—a mix of desire, blackmail, and challenge—evaporated. “You suck, Bathin.”
“You have no idea how well.”
To wipe the smile off his face, I finished the distance between us, gripped his face firmly and kissed him.
On his cheek.
He grunted, surprised.
He huffed out a breath. “I…that…really?”
I pulled back with a smack. “One kiss. As agreed. Now the vortex stays closed. Congratulations. You were right. Nothing to it.”
I sauntered back to the driver’s side and got in.
“What was that all about?” The unicorn had moved out of the back seat and made herself comfortable in the front, sitting upright like a dog, so she could see over the dashboard and out the window. She’d also found my sunglasses and perched them across her nose.
She looked ridiculous. And she was a little more glittery here in the lower light of the car than she had been out in the sunlight. I decided to let it pass. It would take her some time to adjust to living in Ordinary. That was normal.
“Just holding up my end of the bargain to shut the vortex for good.” I started the car.
“Ah. The kiss. Is that what you think that was?”
“It was a kiss.” I didn’t know why I was so defensive.
“Not a demon kiss. Not exactly.”
“There was a demon involved.”
She made a little “Mmmm” sound and twisted to stare at Bathin, then looked over at me. “Ooooo. He’s irritated. Very irritated. You do know how to shove a hot brand under his fleshy bits don’t you? Oh, this is delightful.”
“Gross. So glad you approve.”
“Hoof bump.” She held out a hoof still not looking away from the demon. The sunglasses had slipped down so she could look over the top of them.
I shook my head. She jiggled her hoof. “Bump me.”
“You’re very demanding for a reclusive magical creature.” But she was also kind of cute and she obviously didn’t like Bathin, so that gave her points in my book.
Yeah, I was in a good mood. Today had been a win. We’d just closed down a vortex to Hell with absolutely no repercussions.
That never happened in Ordinary.
So I reached over and fist-bumped her hoof.
She stuck her tongue out at Bathin and wiggled it.
He threw his hands up, his face like thunder.
“Boom,” the unicorn sighed. “I am going to just love living here.”
“Good.” I drove out of the park toward home. “How do you feel about a fenced yard?”
“I suppose it depends on the yard. Is it yours?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m sure it will be entirely adequate.” The unicorn wiggled her butt deeper into the seat and watched the town go by. She was alternately amused by how “quaint” and “backward” the town was, and irritated by how many supernaturals were “strolling around as if they owned the place.”
I reminded her they belonged here, just like she belonged here, as long as they followed the rules, just like she was expected to. Also, if she broke the rules, it would earn her a one-way-ticket back to some other meadow.
“Of course I’ll follow the rules,” she demurred, eyelashes fluttering. “I’m a unicorn. Everyone knows unicorns are perfect.”
Chapter 7
Xtelle sniffed at the raised beds that lined the fence, took a second or two to glance at the rose bushes and wild honeysuckle, rhododendron and wildflowers that had taken over the south side of the yard.
She trotted up to me. “It’s…nice.”
“Nice.” I liked gardening, which wasn’t always easy here on the coast with the salt air and sandy soil.
“I’m just used to something more…” she waved her hoof at my gorgeous flowers and shrubs, “spectacular.”
“Well, this is as good as it gets here,” I said. “Not even Felix, who takes care of the heritage garden, has a nicer yard.”
“Oh, I know you tried, dear. It’s just you’re so disappointingly human.”
I decided to ignore the patronizing little jerk, and turned to the back door. “There’s a door here to the garage. You can open it by pushing.”
“The garage? Why would I want access to your vehicle?” Her eyes narrowed and became hard. “You don’t think I’m a vehicle do you? A beast of burden?”
“No. I know what you are.”
A pain in the neck diva.
“Look. I don’t have a magical meadow for your frolicking needs. My garage is weatherproof, insulated, finished, and clean. It’s the next best space.”
“I—what about your house?”
“My house?”
“Surely it can’t be any worse than your garage?”
“No, it’s—”
“Then it shall suffice for the time being. Show me your master bedroom.”
“No. Nope. That’s mine.”
“But I am your guest! Royalty. Should I not have the very best?”
“You’re not my guest, you’re my responsibility until you’re more comfortable living in Ordinary on your own.”
“Oh.” She sniffed and lowered her head. “I see. I’ll jus
t stay out here like a common horse, a beast, a…a vermin of some sort, cold, shivering in the rain while my magnificent image rusts and decays, until I’m nothing but hooves and mushrooms not even fit for Felix’s compost pile.”
Drama. Queen.
No. Drama. Empress.
“Xtelle?”
“Yes?” she whimpered at the grass.
“Would you like to come inside my home and check out the guest room?”
“The master bedroom, you say?”
“No. The guest room. Since you’re my guest. And I want you to be comfortable.”
She swung her head side to side, her whole body rocking. “If that’s the best you can do…”
“Oh, trust me. It is everything I can do.”
“Well.” She lifted her head and straightened, the wind stirring her horsey mane and setting a flickering of glittery lights free. “I’ll humor you. Show me to the guest room.”
“Wipe your hooves.”
“What do you think I am? A lady keeps her hooves clean at all times.” She scraped her hooves on the welcome mat then barged past me into the house trotting into the living room.
“Lace and frills? Really, Myra. Are you compensating for something? I didn’t think you were the type to fall into stale female tropes.”
“Judge me, and you’re sleeping with the mushrooms.”
She rolled her big eyes. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t you have such a nice home?” She spat that out through her teeth like a threat.
“Yes, I do, thank you. Guest room this way.” I couldn’t hide my smile as she huffed and trotted after me, muttering about humans and ruffles. I opened the door and stepped aside so she could get a good long look at the spare bedroom.
“It’s…that’s…I…is this the only guest room?”
I stuck my hands on my hips. “Yep.”
“And the…uh…garage?”
“Still an option.”
“How is the garage decorated?”
“It isn’t. Just a concrete floor, walls with storage, and a nice dry area for straw bedding.”
“Straw.”
She hadn’t walked into the guest room yet, but the straw comment got her moving.
“Rosebud quilt. My, it looks so…homemade, doesn’t it? And matching curtains. So…sweet.” She gave the shabby-chic dresser one look, rolled her eyes, then hopped up onto the bed and sort of sprawled on her side.
It was an unusual way to see a horse lie, almost as if she were a starlet posing for a silent movie.
Unicorns were oddballs. Which meant they fit right in with everyone else in Ordinary.
“This will suffice.” She shifted, dragging the pillows to where she wanted them under her head and front legs. “Now leave. It’s been a traumatizing day. What does he see in this town?”
“What?”
“What?” She closed her eyes and exhaled.
“Who, he?”
“Who, he…Myra, I’m exhausted. Leave me now. I need my beauty sleep.”
“You said you didn’t know what he sees in this town. Who are you talking about?”
“Bathin. I do not know why he is so fascinated with the place. It’s all very…mundane.”
“Ordinary,” I said, not bothering to hide a smirk. “It’s all very ordinary.”
“Yes, it is. And yet, he refuses to leave.” She yawned, then opened her eyes a slit. “I don’t suppose you understand why he’s staying here, do you?”
“Get some sleep, Xtelle. I’ll leave out some oats for you.”
“No need,” she mumbled. “I’ll make myself at home in whatever passes as a kitchen here.”
I grunted. I was beginning to understand why Bathin didn’t like unicorns.
“Please,” I suggested.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Now leave me alone.”
I gave up. She wasn’t listening to me. Agreeing to be her host was turning out to be a bad idea, even if I’d mostly done it to bother Bathin.
And why was I making life decisions just to spite a demon?
You know, my heart said.
Yeah, I wasn’t listening to it either.
~~~
The late afternoon sun hung over the ocean, only a thin beadwork of clouds streaking the sky. The wind was calm, the ocean the kind of blue you only saw in dreams, and the bonfire was crackling.
Roy’s retirement party had drawn more than just those of us on the police force, his wife and kids, grandkids, and friends. It had drawn half the town.
We had a beach full of humans, supernaturals, and the few gods in town: Athena, Frigg, Hades. The only demigod, Piper, whose day job was waitressing at the Blue Owl diner, laughed over a beer with Chris Lagon, our local gill-man and award-winning craft brewery owner.
The guest of honor was enjoying the free beer and giving grilling tips to Jame Wolf, a werewolf and firefighter, and his brothers who were all manning the massive mobile barbecue they’d muscled down to the sand.
We even had a good showing of vampires, though Old Rossi, the head of them all, hadn’t arrived yet.
He was still recovering from a very-near-death battle that had lost him one eye and almost put him in the grave, permanently. It had only been a year, but he hadn’t even left his house for the first six months, and then only on moonless nights.
Jean and Delaney, along with Hogan and Ryder, were lounging on driftwood logs brought over to surround the bonfire. We didn’t make a big deal about it, but since all of Ordinary’s police were here instead of patrolling, drinking was at zero in case we got a call.
Of course, with half the citizens here, we weren’t too concerned about the few hours we wouldn’t be out on the street.
“Myra.” Hera, owner of MOM’S Bar and Grill, strolled over and dropped down onto the sandy blanket beside me, pointing her bare feet toward the ocean just like me. “How are you?”
Herri, as she preferred to be called, was tall and graceful, her long, dark hair streaked with blood-red highlights. Her faded jeans were fashionably distressed, and her light jacket fell back off the white tank top embroidered with a peacock feather she had on beneath it. Her skin was that gorgeous all-year tan I envied.
“Good.” I pointed my chin toward Roy, who had his head thrown back as he laughed at something the werewolves were saying. “A little sad. I’m going to miss him being a part of my every day, you know?”
She tipped back her beer, then pulled her hair off her neck with one hand before letting it fall again. “I think so. It’s easy to get used to things being one way, isn’t it? Easy to think life will continue in the same routine we like or are familiar with.”
“Yeah.” She was the goddess of women, marriage. I’d always thought she was really easy to talk to, which made her a great bar owner.
“What made you come back to Ordinary?” I asked.
“Are you asking for yourself, or is this going to be recorded in the Reed journals?”
I pushed the blanket to one side and dug my fingers in the soft sand. “Both. If you don’t want me to record something, you know I’ll honor that.”
She curled her legs up, sitting with them crossed. “Well, one: I missed it here. There is peace in setting the power at rest. Two: I enjoy being among humans with predictable human wants. The rest of the townsfolk are pretty amusing too.” She pointed her beer at the werewolves and vampires challenging each other to some kind of game that involved a football and several tennis rackets.
“It’s a nice place to live,” I agreed, feeling happy with my town and my people—all the people—here.
“The other reason has more to do with my day job.”
“Bartending?”
“Godding.” She rubbed at the wet beer label, rolling off a bit of the foil. “There are some events outside of Ordinary that I don’t care to be a part of. Gods who are making a bid for…well, let’s just say there are gods out in the universe who are pushing for changes. And supernaturals who want other outc
omes. I don’t care to take sides.”
A cold shiver pulled goosebumps down the back of my neck. “Are you talking about a war of some kind?”
“I don’t know what it will or won’t be.” She smiled. “But there is a certain amount of…jockeying between forces and powers out in the world right now.”
“So you came here to hide?” I gave her a grin.
“I’m not hiding. I’m here to wait and see. Besides, Ordinary is one of my favorite places no matter what’s happening on the outside.”
The football-tennis-racket game was in full force, and a couple people—humans—had pulled up coolers as judging seats.
There seemed to be a constant argument as to what counted as a point. Also, some of the players insisted the rules allowed tackling their own teammates.
“Is Ordinary going to be affected by the jockeying between forces?”
She looked away from the game and reached over to squeeze my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, Myra. You already do enough of that.”
“How bad is it going to be?”
She shook her head. “Your father wouldn’t have pushed.”
“I’m not him.”
“No,” she said, not unkindly, “you’re not. I don’t think Ordinary will be involved at all. But if it is, well, there are more than enough of us who will do our part to keep it safe.”
I nodded, accepting that truth. The gods, the supernaturals, and the humans had all risen again and again in the town’s time of need, whether it was devastating winter storms, petty territory battles, or murdered gods.
One of the werewolves dashed under the hastily constructed line strung between two sticks drilled into the wet sand, and body checked the vamp on the other side.
The two of them went down in a tangle, and someone passed them the ball. It didn’t make any sense, but everyone was hooting and cheering and enjoying themselves.
I was impressed at the wolves and fangers carefully not revealing their supernatural strength or speed. That added a layer of challenge to the game the humans wouldn’t pick up on, but the rest of us saw.
“So, Delaney’s soul has been in the possession of a demon for over a year,” I said.
She hummed.
“Some of the old texts say that when a person’s soul has been in a demon’s hands for over a year, it…fails.”
